Only the Buttered Sun Knows
You said: "You should have woke me up."
I said: "You didn't sleep with me last night."
how absurd
this pillow talk
morning hands on coffee cups
as if its warmth were enough,
aye, there be the rub!
as if a firebird could take wing, take this
distance between us and burn through
its aftermath, our eyes huge with weights, these
things that weigh
us down and these things of weight that keep us honest
like deer caught
in headlights, our hearts like daisies
that will never tell,
pushing ground to sky
sky to ground,
burrowing our way somewhere,
not here.
Copyright © Anna Ruiz | Year Posted 2011
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